[2] WEEPING MONK║you're not what I was looking for

56| Tears Of A Monk - 𝐈𝐈

[TW// Sickness and injury. Strong language. Mentions of blood. Anxiety, grief, a touch of depression]

Lancelot lives his worst nightmare. Pym uncovers a secret and Hector makes a bold decision.

"Ash man?"

"Gawain!" Squirrel ran up to the knight, his eyes permanently red from his tears.

Gawain put his arms around the boy's shoulders as Squirrel reached around his waist. From the looks of things, he did not think that the boy was getting much consoling in the despondence of this tent.

"Hey there — now come on, it's alright." He tried to encourage, and a moment later Squirrel pulled his arms away but still remained where he was, wiping at his nose with the damp end of his sleeve. This was no place for a child to be but Gawain knew better than to try and tear the boy away.

He turned his attention up to the Ash man who was keeping his vigil — in the same state as he had seen him each time that he had entered here. Running his hand over the untamed blonde hair by his waist's side, he said, "There are flowers outside. Evergreens, laurels." Lancelot's hollowed face did not shift, far off eyes staring into nothing. Gawain opted for gentle persuasion. "You should take a breath and see."

An answer came right away.

"No."

"Lancelot—" Gawain sighed.

"I do not wish to see."

Gawain did not want to push him but this tent was stifling. "Then come for some air, at least?" He asked lightly. The veiled entrance behind him was pulled back a little, allowing for midday light and a view of the forest to tempt Lancelot, if only he would look this way.

Lancelot bit the air. "They are mourning as if she were already dead."

He had seen it before - their mourning wakes for the departed surrounded by greenery and flowers. It is not right, she is not dead. He could feel her breaths when he placed his hand to her lips. She is not dead.

The Green Knight frowned at his friend's harshness, however warranted it was. The Fey were not mourning — the offerings were prayers.

"Lance—" Squirrel tried to step back to him.

"Go with Gawain." Lancelot stopped the boy from saying anything more, his voice as if there were no life within him.